


Wounded hearts

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-03-06
Updated: 2002-03-06
Packaged: 2018-11-20 10:36:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11334027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Alex saves Walter's life and in return Walter offers sanctuary





	Wounded hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Wounded hearts

## Wounded hearts 

#### by Laurel

Title: Wounded hearts   
Author: Laurel  
Feedback to:   
Author's Website:   
Date Archived: 03/06/02  
Category: Romance, Hurt/Comfort  
Pairing (Primary): Skinner/Krycek  
Pairing(s) (Secondary):   
Crossover Fandom (if any):   
Crossover Info (if any):   
Other Pairing Info:   
Rating: NC-17  
Spoilers: Apocrypha, Tunguska, Terma   
Permission to Archive:   
Series or Sequel/Prequel:   
Notes: This was written for the Skinner/Krycek Valentine's challenge.   
Multiple POV  
Warnings:   
Disclaimer:   
Summary: Alex saves Walter's life and in return Walter offers sanctuary

When the judge pronounced the sentence of life in prison, there was a joyous cry from the galley. Mulder grinned from ear to ear and Scully was as radiant as her sunburst hair. 

But there was an unholy wail of outrage from the defendant's corner. Kersh was apoplectic. His wide yawning mouth let out a torrent of insults and threats. He was so angry, his face purpled beneath the ashen color of prison pallor. His time in jail, denied bail, witnessing the parade of people stabbing accusing fingers at him had not done his health very well. He was thin, his face pale, his hair had turned mostly white. 

In a fit of rage, he pushed past his astonished lawyer wearing a fifteen hundred dollar impeccably hand tailored charcoal suit. How he'd gotten out of hand and leg shackles was anyone's guess but someone he'd managed to pick them open. He shoved the guard fumbling with his gun and headed straight for the man who had ordered the initial investigation into his actions. 

With only a few seconds to spare and as dumb assed people got in the way of the agents behind Kersh who were armed with FBI issued guns, I jumped in front of the man and pushed Walter down. 

There was a searing pain in my back as the knife he'd held high in his hand like a demented angel thrust into me. I wailed myself as the pain cut my breath off and the throbbing began. Walter instinctively cradled me in his arms. 

There was a frenzy of confused activity behind me. Kersh was dragged off, his heels scrabbling across the floor as he refused to walk. He has handcuffed and handled none too gently by several agents and guards. The knife was confiscated. 

I moaned and panted as the pain in my back increased and my breath decreased. Mulder knelt down beside us and Scully rushed over. 

Walter gently turned me over and slipped out from under me. 

"Krycek, you saved my life." 

"You have a gun. Why didn't you just shoot him," I said miserably. 

He shrugged. "I guess I was in shock. I didn't see the knife until he was right on us." 

Scully turned me sideways and Mulder called for an ambulance. The rasping breath in my throat told me all I needed to know. My lung was collapsing. I tried to lie still as she applied pressure to the wound. 

Walter petted my head reassuringly as we waited for the ambulance. He came with me as they wheeled me away on the gurney. I figured it was for protection as I'd been one of the major witnesses in the trial. But who was left to kill me? 

In the hospital, the smell of antiseptic made me shiver with fear. I hated hospitals and wasn't too crazy about doctors either. The trauma room was an awful shade somewhere between apple green and puke green. Did they think that color was reassuring to the patients? 

The oxygen mask was removed briefly so I could speak. They asked me about drug allergies and medical conditions then slapped the mask back on. It fogged up with my with desperate one-lunged breaths. 

I wondered if I was dying and suddenly I wasn't scared so much as curious and peaceful. I got pretty pissed when they started cutting my clothes off though. The shirt I could live without, but my leather jacket! 

I fought with them as they took off my prosthesis and swabbed my arm so they could take blood. I didn't have much fight left in me though. When I heard some intern say chest tube tray, I kind of freaked. But my breathing wasn't getting better. My oxygen level was so low I felt my eyelids getting heavier. Yeah, just go to sleep, already, that irritated inner voice said. The question was would I wake up? 

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Walter's concerned face hovering nearby. He hadn't left me to die, drowning in my own blood and gasping for breath. I wanted to tell him thanks for hanging around pal but right about then I felt like someone was punching a hole in my chest, which was what they were doing. Then I went out like a light. 

When I woke up next I saw bright lights. No tunnel though. Just a row of fluorescent lights above me as they wheeled me out of the emergency room and toward a set of elevators. Gray, like the color of alien skin. Or so I'm shown on t.v. 

Walter was right beside the bed. His face bobbed between the bag of fluid hanging on a hook sending healing liquid into my arm. 

I smiled at him and tried to talk but found I had I had a tube down my throat. The doctor beside me explained they'd had to intubate me. I nodded understanding. The doctor was Indian with an English accent. Last name Patel. He had a trim beard that covered his smooth brown skin. His kind brown eyes were just like Walter's. 

Walter had to stay behind as they wheeled me into the operating room. The anesthetist came around and in moments I was out of it again. 

When next I woke up, there was the comforting murmur of nurses busily attending to patients. I was in recovery. A nurse began to speak to me in a soothing lilt. She told me to keep breathing in and out forcefully to get rid of the anesthesia. I nodded and did as I was told. When I didn't breath enough and felt my eyes getting heavier, there was a little alarm that came on and she came over chiding me gently. 

I tried my best to breathe for her. 

The longer I stayed in the hospital, the surlier I became. Walter visited me and there were guards posted outside at all times. I really didn't think he needed to fuss so much but I was glad for the company. He brought me a couple of magazines. True crime stories. I laughed at that. He also brought me a couple of chocolate bars. My secret vice. 

My chest hurt all the time with that damned tube in it and my back bothered me too but I couldn't complain about the doctors and nurses. They were top-notch and took great care of me, even with my bitching and whining. 

I was surprised when Walter took me home. I just figured I'd go to the safe house I'd been living in these past six months. I didn't pay much attention to it though. Hell the trial was over so it's not as if I needed protection any longer. I should have been out on my own by now. 

I didn't complain though. I got used to being pampered by him. Hot meals and television, books he let me borrow from his substantial library, Walter's big hands washing my back in the tub, always careful of my stitches. I was sad when I got to take regular showers again. I loved the feel of his hands on my body, no matter how medicinal it was supposed to be. I was starved for his touch. 

I dreaded when night came though. The nightmares always began around two in the morning. I woke up every night screaming my damn head off. Sometimes it was night terrors so bad I was thrashing and crying out until the only way I could wake up was Walter pushing me down on the bed, shouting my name. 

One night he just looked at me, took my hand and hauled me to his own bedroom. I was too shocked to speak. Hey, not even a dinner date first? No flowers or candy? Just get your ass up here and roll over? 

But to my surprise all he wanted me to do was sleep. He petted my head and held me gently, lamely telling me that maybe I'd sleep better if I wasn't alone. 

Every night Walter silently led me to his bedroom. I knew the screams woke him and I'm sure he was pissed about me waking him up when the nightmares came but I didn't believe my luck in sharing his bed every night. 

If I got too close, he kept me still with a rigid arm holding me back. So I settled for just sleep. No big seduction scenes. No roll over for a good hard fuck and then snoring into dreamland for him. I shrugged and took what he gave. He gave me sanctuary in that oversized bed piled high with fluffy pillows and clean sheets smelling of lemons and a thick comforter against the cold. 

His body radiated heat that would have melted a nuclear plant but I kept my distance. When I rolled into his embrace he held me tight in his sleep and it was often I'd wake up curled into his arms. He didn't push me away and soon enough to prevent me from bad dreams, not to mention my still healing wound, he'd pet my head and rub my back where the stitches were gently dissolving on their own. I slept like an innocent child. 

If I woke in the night for a pee or to get a drink of water, he'd sort of growl, half asleep but aware I was up. The creaking of the bed couldn't have been that loud. My absence was a few minutes at most but he didn't seem to rest easy until I got back into bed. He'd sort of snuffle and grunt like a hibernating bear then go back to sleep, his arms reaching out for me. I began to think of Walter as a bear, complete with brown fur and the bed shook with my silent laughter. I pressed my face into the pillow and soon he relaxed as I drifted into sleep. 

He'd been living with me ever since the day Kersh had tried to kill me and he'd jumped between us. Alex was a mystery, a paradox. A killer with a great sense of humor. When he was frightened out of sleep by the nightmares, I wanted to hold him, protect him from the deep dark places in his mind that he visited night after night. 

I was afraid myself. Afraid of what I might be driven to. Ashamed of the rage that had made me take from him what I wanted. So I came home night after night and helped him heal. Changing the bandages covering the stitches, soothing him when bad dreams came, tucking him into my own bed when the sleeping pills didn't do the trick, helping him bathe when he was weak and sore, caressing his back when his coughing spiked the stabbing pain. 

I grew used to his presence, his silences, his longing looks, the shield of his face. We quietly began to live in harmony. His wonderful cooking would greet me no matter what time I came home. He would quickly change channels when he knew I wanted to see the news at the end of the day. He returned the books he borrowed from me when he was finished reading, sliding them back into their place. I realized I would miss him when he left. 

A few days before Valentine's day, I ordered a bouquet for my secretary, bought a teddy bear wearing a doctor's lab coat with a stethoscope around its neck for Scully and a bag of sunflower seeds for Mulder as a sort of joke. I hesitated over the selection of boxed chocolates and decided on a small heart-shaped box with all the popular assortments for Alex, remembering how much of a chocolate fiend he was. 

When I went into his room to pick up his dirty clothes I found a bundle of letters on the dresser. My name on the front caught my eye. 

Even though he'd been sharing my bed for most of the time he'd been living with me, he still hung out in the guest room quite a bit of the time. He had all his clothes and a few personal possessions. There were two spy novels, a study on Russian literature and a poetry anthology on the bedside dresser as well as an architectural magazine and a copy of the National Enquirer. 

He liked to play his loud music in here, away from my offended ears. Bands with crazy names. What on earth is a Bizkit anyway? And why is it limp? Or do I even want to know? Sometimes he'd just nap or read quietly. I heard him exercise too. I suppose it was a sanctuary. Perhaps from me. 

I gathered up a few dirty clothes and threw them in the wash. Alex was running errands. He knew I hated shopping and picking up the dry cleaning so he'd offered to do it for me. It wasn't like he was busy, he'd said. So I shrugged and gave him enough money for both errands and told him to buy himself something as a treat with the rest. The smile he gave me made my heart beat faster. 

The letters were bundled up in pink ribbon. Curious, I slid the bow open and peered inside. The letters were written on heavy ivory paper and placed inside heart shaped red handmade envelopes. The bumpiness was due to the doilies. Yeah doilies. Pale pink doilies were cut out in the shape of a heart and glued to the back of each red heart. Each letter was written in delicate calligraphy. There were cutouts and stickers on each letter with pictures of cupids, angels, and hearts. Homemade Valentines. 

I sat down on the bed and began to read. 

//Dear Heart, 

This is my first letter. I wasn't sure how to start. Well, here I am again, awake in the middle of the night. You're frowning in your sleep. Even though it's dark there's enough light from the moon and the street lights to see your expression. I push closer and you murmur in your sleep. Your arm snakes around my neck and pulls me closer. Finally I can go back to sleep.// 

I gulped uncomfortably. A hand is seizing my throat and my heart seems to be stuck there. Dear heart? He doesn't really mean that does he? 

The second letter just seems to fall into my hands. 

//Dear Heart, 

Sometimes I say your name out loud. It's a funny sort of a name. I looked up its meaning. Did you know that you're a warrior? It's the perfect name for you. Strong, protective, brave warrior. You keep me safe at night from my dreams. Sometimes it's the silo. I dream of being dirty, choked with oil, the black space filling my head and body until I'm stuffed with darkness, like graveyard dirt has filled every orifice. 

Other times, it's the forest creeping in on me and a dozen men are holding me down. The searing pain is so great I pray for death. I know I make noises when I sleep but you're so patient with me. You caress me and soothe me with your deep voice and hold me until I fall into dreamless sleep again. I wish I could have good dreams? Am I so bad I can't dream about good things? I wonder what you dream about. I think about your chocolate brown eyes beneath roving eyelids. Do you dream of me? Are they ever good dreams? Or do I always haunt you? 

I have the best dream that I create in the daytime that is never duplicated at night. We have a house, just the two of us, in the suburbs. It's a perfect little house, warm brick with big windows that let in all the sun. We have a little cat that has a permanent place on the windowsill where she watches the world go by. She licks her paws and purrs, leaving her perch only to find a place to lie in your lap so that you can stroke her fur. 

There's a dog too. Of course we need a big yard for him to run around in. Every summer we'll take a long vacation and bring them with us to the beach to play in the sand. 

In the winter, the neighborhood will be alive with the sounds of children shouting as they have snowball fights. The scrape of shovels against pavement and the dog barking all join in the noise. 

At night we'll build a fire and snuggle up to it with me wrapped in your arms. You'll kiss me and hold me close then pick me up and carry me upstairs to make love until we're exhausted. I wish I could dream this at night, over and over, but there's nothing but darkness.// 

//Dear Heart, 

I want you so badly sometimes I want to cry with frustration and loneliness and despair. This letter must question the hardest things that I'm not sure I want you to answer honestly. 

Do you want me? Am I not pretty enough anymore? Does my arm turn you off? Do the scars keep you away? Does the empty space where an arm should be disturb you? Am I too bad? Am I not good enough? Do you need? Can you love me? 

That night you took me the one and only time began as a nightmare. I was caught in the trap of my own making. I knew I deserved that punch, the night in the cold dark chained like an animal. I understood the need for vengeance, a settling of scores. I deserved it for hurting you. 

But then you came to me in the night. I could feel your heat and rage. I knew the look in your eyes. I saw lust and desire and the need to hurt, to take something away from me. 

But what you didn't know was that I wanted you and would give you whatever you needed as long as I could have you. 

Maybe you didn't notice me pressing my face against your leg. I wanted to make it good for you, soak your hard flesh with my spit. Maybe you ignored me sniffing at your musky scent only covered by thin cotton. I was intoxicated by your smell. 

I was hard before you entered me. I know you saw that. You hesitated when you saw I wasn't ashamed and I wasn't afraid. 

I would have said the word love but I would have become vulnerable. So would you. They might take you away from me. I held your life in my hands whispering the word love in my head. 

Please know that there's nothing to be ashamed of. It wasn't against my will so there's nothing to forgive. 

I want to ask you to be gentle with my heart when I finally say the words. It's like an oyster with a brittle shell that you cracked open and the slick muscle is vulnerable and defenseless. Know that when you swallow it I will be yours forever. 

Always your Alex.// 

It was the last letter. I sat there stunned until I heard the fumbling of the front door. I quickly placed the letters back in order and tied them hastily together. The laundry room became my sanctuary as I mumbled a greeting to my guest. Alex put the groceries away and stuck his head around the corner of the door as he announced he was going to hang my suits in my closet. 

I thanked him and got a quick glimpse of him: leather jacket, green eyes, a quick smile, a smear of chocolate milkshake on his lips like a fake moustache. 

Two days later and it was Valentine's Day. Nothing special. Just another day at work. Kim fussed over her flowers. Scully smiled at the little bear. Mulder thanked me for the sunflower seeds then proceeded to launch into an update of his latest gruesome x-file. 

I was greeted at home with the smells of home cooking. Alex hummed along with the easy listening station. There was a special love song marathon of course. He'd made my favorites: pot roast, garlic mashed potatoes, a tossed green salad, thick French bread toasted and oozing melted cheese, a nice red wine and for dessert he'd whipped up a chocolate mousse with whipped cream made from scratch. 

The small talk was stilted. Long silences dragged out but at least I could argue that the good meal was keeping our mouths busy. After dinner Alex retreated to his room and I could hear music playing. I watched television but was distracted by the thought of him alone in his room. 

After a reasonable amount of time I knocked on the door bringing him the Valentine's gift. He smiled in surprise and accepted the box gratefully. 

"I didn't get you anything," he murmured. 

"But what about..." 

"About what?" 

I didn't want him to know I'd been snooping but what if he never gave them to me? 

"I read the letters Alex," I confessed. 

He paled but the blank expression on his face didn't move. 

"The answer is yes." 

"What's the question?" 

"Yes I want you, yes I need you and yes I love you." 

He swallowed and his lips parted but he didn't speak. 

"I want to talk about what happened that night. I want to apologize." 

"There's nothing to be sorry about. Please Walter. Let's just say it's the first time we had sex. That's what it was." 

"Then I suppose, if you're willing, tonight will be the first time we make love." 

Alex's breath was audible as he sucked it in. He smiled at me. It was tremulous at first but then he let out his breath and laughed huskily. His green eyes filled with tears until they resembled pools of water filled with velvety moss. 

I held out my hand until he took it and I led him upstairs. I wanted to set a nice mood for the evening. I lit a few candles and soon the clean scent of pear and lemon mingled with lush rose filled the room as the flames began to melt the wax. 

Alex's eyes followed me around the room. I put on a jazz CD, something instrumental that was smoky and romantic but melted into the background. 

We undressed each other slowly, tentative and shy. I helped him with his arm. The scars on his body were fading. He was a fast healer. I traced their outlines gently, wondering in awe at the sacrifice he'd made in risking his life for me. 

Alex snuggled into my arms and I fed him the chocolates I'd given him. He licked my palm after each one, lapping up the tiny bit of chocolate that had melted in my hand. His tongue rasped over my skin like a kitten's. He washed the sweets down with a glass of champagne I'd splurged on. 

The golden wine made us both a little dizzy and flushed or maybe it was the endless kisses that felt like drowning in Alex. Slow, soft wet kisses that made my tongue feel heavy and almost separate from the rest of my body. Kisses that made Alex's eyes bright and his lips red and swollen. 

He panted beneath me, struggling for breath but reaching out for me for another kiss. I only let his mouth go so I could taste the rest of him. He was soft velvet and satin, a marvel of biology. I discovered his collarbone was ticklish when I licked it. That sweet soft little spot behind his neck made him wriggle and squeal with pleasure when I tongued it. His ear was a maze of tightly packed cartilage that made him shiver and moan when I breathed into it. 

His body was full of delightful textures and tastes, from the soft fuzz on his chest, the pebbly brown nipples that responded so well to my touch, the fine line of hair that I traced circling his navel and spreading out to his groin. 

The skin there was hot, humid as a rainforest, with a wild patch of curls nesting at the base of his hard cock. The musky scent of him rose with his temperature. He cried out when I circled his cock with my tongue and arched his back when I nibbled and licked the crown before tasting his oozing pre-cum. He reached his one hand down to grab my head and tugged at the short fringe of hair until I could feel it sticking up. 

"Walter," he moaned. 

His need was desperate, almost painful, as was mine. Still I hesitated. I wanted him to be sure. 

I lifted up my head to see his eyes staring at me with the utmost desire I'd ever seen. His face was relaxed, sweet and smiling, his hand reaching out for me. 

"Please make love to me." 

I'd held out our mutual pleasure as long as I could. Silently, I took out lube and a condom. I wanted to make sure he felt no pain at all this time. I got him ready with plenty of lube, so much that it dripped onto the sheets. He scooted down to my cock and sucked on it while I gently stretched him out with my fingers. 

He was mewling with anticipated pleasure in no time and impatiently spread out on the bed in invitation. 

"I love you," I told him. 

"I love you too." 

He was relaxed as I entered him. All the preparation had made him loose and so I easily slid inside him, surprised by how tight and hot he was. It had been so long since I'd felt such heat. I wanted to remember every moment, every cry, the heat of his thighs as he wrapped his legs around my hips, each swipe of tongue over his lips, every kiss, every movement of our hips, each whispered word of love, every moan of pleasure, the look of joy in his eyes as I brought him to climax. 

The cry of pleasure as he came would always stay with me. It never varied but nonetheless it was a delight to hear it every time. I shouted with my own released and kissed him again, swallowing every delicious moan and whimper as he relaxed from his orgasm. 

The most beautiful smile I'd ever seen graced his face as I gently rolled off of him. I disposed of the condom and cleaned us both up before taking him in my arms and cradling him close. 

His eyes were drowsy, heavy lidded. His mouth with that adorable cupid's bow, was still swollen, glistening from my kisses. 

I tucked the blankets around us, already house hunting in my head. We needed a fireplace in the bedroom, a big yard, a big den, a library for my voracious reader. 

"Sweet dreams, dear heart," I whispered as sleep overtook us both. 

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Laurel 


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